D
by Kristian Krowe
Summary: When World War III ends in disaster for America,they turn to the unexplored options of the drug known as Golem. Now one man stands alone against conformity, and one woman stands to break her bonds and help him. Pleas Read and Review.
1. Introduction

The year is 2011. The date is the twenty second of June. The world hasn't changed much, not since the War. Or perhaps it has changed quite a bit. Either side can be argued. It could be argued that it has changed for the better. Or it has changed for the worse. It could be argued that it hasn't changed at all. That we are the same as we have always been: wretched. I wouldn't argue that . . . I wouldn't argue that one bit. We beings are wretched . . . Yes we are. We fight, we monger, we curse, we love, we lust, we hate. We hate. We destroy anything that we believe is a threat. It is the only way to survive, is it not? That, like everything else I have just told you, can be argued.

What cannot be argued is the story of a man. The story of a man who changed the world we live in. This story, the story I will tell you, is nothing but the truth. I was there to witness every second of it, with no regrets. This story is my story. This story is your story. But more importantly, this story is _his _story. It is the story of a man who created a world, a man who created a vision, a man who created a dream and a reality. A man who created, when his name was ironically: Derek Stroyer, or more affectionately known as D. Stroyer. A destroyer, as his abbreviated name implies. Yes, he was that, and I saw in length the capabilities of his destruction. I also witnessed the power of his heart, and the will of his to create something new, something pure.

My name, although it is of little consequence, is Hima Montgomery. Hima is Himalayan for "snow". My mother gave it to me. She and my father were madly in love. They moved, while she was pregnant with me, from Little Calcutta, India, to Seattle, Washington. It was here she received her injections. The injections into her womb that made me the way I am. The injections that gave me my uniqueness, also gave me my uniformity. You are not like me. Any of you reading this, you are probably not like me. Why? How can you not be like me? How is it possible? It is possible because the man, the man in the story that I am about to tell you, made it possible.

In the 1950's, Russia and the United States entered a bitter feud called the Cold War. In the 70's this escalated into what is now called The War, or World War III. Powerful bombs were launched, armies were deployed, and many people died. No one was left unaffected. In the end, the United States was crushed, beaten down by the Warsaw Pact, and a few defectors of NATO. Amongst the defectors were Britain, and Spain. France stayed loyal to the United States, and thus shared a similar fate. It was then that the drug, the DNA encoder named Golem, was created.

The American Government, shattered and utterly destroyed, went underground. The resistance was small at first, but it began to grow due to the stimulation of American corporations and funds. Citizens and politicians and soldiers alike, bonded together to make up the resistance, all to reclaim the pride of the United States, and to restore themselves to a place in the world that they so justly deserved. The Soviets did not occupy America. No foreign country did. It was a wasteland now. The country had been so badly beaten in The War that there was no use for it. It was neglected, as France was, and soon died out.

Then, an American company by the name of Genetech, came along. It was a relatively small company, with dedicated staff members. They mostly worked in secret, keeping their research from even the resistance. Until they created a drug known as Golem; it was said that Golem would help rocket America back into the world where it belonged. So Genetech presented the drug to the President, who was operating from a bomb shelter in Nevada. They informed the President of the effects of Golem, and he seemed pleased. No one else understood what it would do to them when the President ordered that every citizen loyal to the United States head to a checkpoint to be dosed with this new drug.

Later, everyone found out. It turns out that Golem was a DNA encoder. It attached itself to the very chromosomes of the human body. Once in, it leeched out every bit of information it could, while keeping everything intact. Soon, things started to happen to the patients. They began to grow stronger, smarter, and faster. They began to react quicker and see further. They developed, in a sense, super powers. Some cases were even more advanced. Some could manipulate gravity around their person, giving them the ability to fly. Some could control fire from their fingertips, or ice, or wind. Some could read minds, or developed telekinesis. Some could become transparent. These advanced cases soon become known as Charlie cases. Beta Cases were those that showed the usual effects, increased brain mass, increased strength and speed, etcetera. Alpha cases were the cases in which the drug was rejected in the patient. The information in the chromosomes was leeched out, but not kept intact. Although the person remained functional, they did not have any superhuman capabilities, and their body slowly started to mutate itself into something hideous and inhuman.

Every mother who was pregnant was required to get the fetus injected with Golem as well. The children developed in the womb faster, and soon they came out, functional as if they had never been treated with the drug. After three generations of injecting fetuses, it was finally adapted to the human anatomy. Golem was no longer needed. Children were born with the effects of Golem already in them, without being introduced to the drug. Genetech had succeeded in making a race of American super humans. With that sort of capability, the United States composed of citizen armies and ragtag ex-military personnel were finally ready to make their reappearance into the world. They were ready to face whatever challenges that may have been brought to their front.

America roared back up onto the global scene in 2001. The Soviets attempted to thwart them by dropping paratroopers over the country, but all military excursions were repelled by the resistance. Soon, after finally being recognized as a global power, although not a super power, the United States was left alone. They shipped over Genetech to France, so that their only true ally could grow as strong as they had. What they did not foresee was that Golem slipped out of the hands of the French, and of the Americans, and soon the world was doused in Golem. Every human on the planet had Golem in their DNA.

When I was born, I was evaluated just like all of the other children. It was during the 1 week evaluation directly out of the womb when a child was discovered to be an Alpha or a Beta case. It was quite easy to see. All they had to do was study the DNA to see if it had been rejected. If it was, the child would appear normal through its childhood. It would slowly, over time, deteriorate into an Alpha case. Until finally they were unrecognizable heaps of monstrosity in old age, that was the life of an Alpha case. Alpha cases were not disrespected or hated. They were simply pitied . . . But some were even respected as powerful figures. But not many were.

When a child turned 8 they were taken to a checkpoint to be evaluated once more. It was during this 1 week evaluation that it was discovered if a Beta case was in fact a Charlie case, or if they remained a Beta case. They waited 8 years to test again because it took quite a long time to develop their powers if they were truly Charlie cases. If they were, they were taught to use their powers, to an extent. They were given a set of laws. Never to use their powers for evil, things like that. I was one of those cases. I was there for a week at one of the checkpoints to be evaluated. I passed. I was truly a Charlie case. At first they didn't believe I was. There was nothing extraordinary about my powers. I seemed to be another Beta case, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It was then discovered, on the second to last day of my evaluation, that although I did not have any _true_ powers, such as being able to become transparent or manipulate my personal gravity, I was able to process things much faster than anyone else.

Golem granted all of its patients increased brain mass, that was true enough, but I was different. I could process things so fast that I was equal to forty supercomputers. I could read two pages at a time; I could finish a book in five minutes and remember every word, able to recite every word back. I could solve the most advanced stages of arithmetic with my left hand, and write something equivalent to Shakespeare with my right. I was a rare case. I was considered a Charlie case by most, but by some, no one of important though it may have been, I was a Delta case. I was beyond a Charlie case because my powers, although superb and unique like those of a Charlie case, were innate and unnoticeable. It was something extraordinary.

Little did I know, there was something beyond a Charlie case, and something even beyond a Delta case. There were Echo cases. No one really knew anything about Echo cases. I was the first to discover them. When I was old enough to go to college, I did so. I received my 9th PHD by the time I was supposed to be in High School. When I was 18 I enlisted with a special group called Evaluation and Action Society, or E.A.S. It was a division that was dedicated to stationing checkpoints and evaluating newborns and 8 year olds. Well, that was part of what we did. The second part, the Action part, was more difficult. We were armed and trained, and we did what we had to do. We hunted down renegades, terrorists, and protected victims of Flesh Rage and other crimes. It is similar to a new-age police force and witness protection program.

That is how I met Mr. Derek Stroyer, or Mr. D. Stroyer, as he was known as. In the slums of Seattle there were reports of beheadings. It had traveled from Maine, down through Pennsylvania and Virginia, across Detroit and Superior. It made its way through Kansas and Oklahoma. It touched down briefly in Denver, and finally it reached Seattle. Seattle, where I was born, and where my checkpoint was stationed. I was sent to investigate a double homicide, both victims beheaded, down in the slums. Down in the Garrison Quarters, which was the worst of the worst, is where I was sent. That was where I first met the man whom the news called "The Executioner". That was where I first met Derek Stroyer. That was the day I made a decision that shaped the rest of my life and the events that were to closely follow. It was the day I assigned myself to him. It was the day I threw away my career, my life, because of the magnetism this man seemed to have.

He forever changed my life. I wish I could say the effect was mutual, but I doubt I could have done anything to change the hell he lived in. No, I did nothing to change him. I helped him, but I did not change him. He was a monster. He was a destroyer. He was a murderer. He was a mad man and a criminal. And I tried to save him.

This is my story. This is your story. But more importantly, it is his story.

Derek Stroyer's story. The Executioner's story. D. Stroyer's story.


	2. The Garrison Quarters

Hima woke up that night. It wasn't exactly night yet, but it was close enough. She looked out the window. The sun was beginning to set. That was her cue to get ready. She had been working cases for the last thirty-six hours straight. She had begged her superior for a rest period, and he had granted it, knowing how hard she had been working. Between evaluating all the newborns and 8 year olds, and interrogating supposed victims, she had become exhausted. Her head had pounded with pain and her body was sore and aching. She had needed this brief couple of hours of rest.

So she lazily rolled out of bed. Her sheets getting tangled up in her legs as she fell to the floor of her apartment. Her alarm clock was broken, so she didn't bother shutting it off before the annoying beep began. That was a blessing. She rubbed her head and then scratched her scalp before finally getting to her feet. She raised her arms high above her head, listening to her back crack and her muscles strain. It felt good to stretch. She looked at her nightstand and grabbed her pistol. She tried to ignore the picture facing down. Her ex-boyfriend, he had been a bastard, and yet she couldn't forget him. She had been meaning to throw the picture away for quite some time, but it seemed like a spurt of cases had come about for the past few months.

She brushed the picture off the nightstand into the trashcan next to it. She gave herself an encouraging smile before stepping away and making her way towards the bathroom. She twisted the handle on the door before pushing it open with a slight squeak. She shut it behind her and looked in the mirror. She hadn't gotten that much sleep after all it seemed. She looked like shit. She hoped a nice, long hot shower would remedy that. She slid one arm out of her jacket, and then the other, throwing it with the heap of dirty clothes in the corner. Then she unbuttoned her white blouse, easing herself out of it. Then she took off her already slackened black tie. She finished undressing and grabbed the cold metal knob of the shower. She turned it towards her, and water spewed out after a moment of waiting. She didn't dare step in yet. It was cold. It was always cold in the beginning. She had it down to a science. _One thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three, and one thousand four, good, time to get in, _she thought to herself.

She almost slipped, her foot giving way to the water, but she grabbed the curtain rod and steadied herself. She was more tired than she expected. The hot water stung on her sore body, but she ignored it. She tried to embrace it. The steam rising from the water was slightly comforting. Just these few minutes of bliss to relax; it was more of a reward than her salary was. She was getting her hair wet when she had a brief chill in her neck. A slight pain, but it was gone instantly, as if it had never happened. She passed it off as work-related stress and continued with her stress-free shower. Her haven, that's what it was.

She turned the knob to the right, shutting the water off, and then stepped out of the shower. She wrapped herself in a towel, and then proceeded to dry her hair. Then she heard a giant _clap!_ From outside, it had to have been thunder. She sighed and ceased drying her hair. There was no point in drying her hair if she was going to be walking through the rain. She dried the rest of her body off and began getting dressed. Her muscles still ached and burned, but it wasn't as bad. It was duller than before, which she was happy about.

She stepped out of the bathroom and made her way into the kitchen. She made herself a bagel to eat on the walk to the checkpoint. She gritted her teeth as she dropped a glob of blueberry jam on her white blouse, over the left breast. She cleaned it up, and to her relief, it wasn't even noticeable. She'd have to get it dry cleaned to fix it up totally though. That was no problem for her. She finished her bagel before she had even gotten out of the apartment, much to her dismay. It was supposed to last her until she reached the checkpoint. She opened the door that led into the hallway and made her way out into the world. As she closed the door to her apartment she knew she'd be taking that picture out of the trashcan when she returned. She just knew it.

As she exited the apartment building she stepped in a puddle, which irked her only more. Her bright pink Nike air forces were now wet. She didn't dress like a regular agent. Some of the others ridiculed her for it, but it was her one way of enjoying herself. It was the only way she maintained her sanity in that conformist group. So in her black dress pants with white pinstripes, her white blouse (with the blueberry stain that wasn't noticeable), her hot pink tie, her black sweater, and her pink Nike air forces she made her way down the rainy street. She wasn't living in the best neighborhood, but it wasn't the worst either. It certainly wasn't as bad as the Garrison Quarters.

As she made her way through the downpour, her vision wandered. She studied the buildings she'd studied a thousand times before. She gazed at the rocks she'd gazed at a thousand times. She did all of these things. She wasn't quite sure why. She figured it was so that she wasn't some forward-staring drone. That was what most people had become. They were all the same now. She despised it. She was half way there when a man ran into her. _Excuse me_ she thought to herself. The man said nothing. He just kept on his way. Most people on the streets didn't want to interact with others. Again, she wasn't sure why. She knew so many things, and yet when it came to human thought she knew so very little. Even after getting a degree in psychology. It was just so fascinating to her that she didn't know something. At the same time it frustrated her. She couldn't stand not knowing something because she had grown up knowing everything.

When she finally reached the checkpoint her hair was still soaking wet, and her umbrella had done little to keep her shoes from remaining damp. By the time the checkpoint was in sight she had given up on the umbrella and just walked through the rain exposed. Some of the agents looked at her and then glanced away. They didn't like the way she dressed, and they didn't like that she knew so much. They didn't like her condescending demeanor, even though she was not condescending at all. They assumed she was because she explained so many things that they didn't understand. She was the most humble person in the world, at least in her opinion. The dislike some of them had towards her didn't bother her too much though. She had gotten used to it over the three years she'd been with E.A.S.

As she entered the building she grabbed a hot cup of cappuccino from a vendor on the first floor. She hated coffee. It made her gag. She had refused caffeine until one day she ventured to taste a hot cup of cappuccino, and she was instantly in love. So she paid the man, and grabbed the Styrofoam cup of hot goodness, and walked towards the elevator. She clicked the button that pointed up, and when the doors opened, she stepped in. She had a song stuck in her head as she rode the elevator to her floor. She wasn't sure what song it was, just the beat of it was stuck in her head. She began to hum it before someone rudely glared at her. She stopped immediately. She hated people who couldn't enjoy themselves. That was most of the population now.

The elevator gave out a little ding and the doors slid open. She stepped out onto her floor and was hit with an assault of noise. The agents on her floor were hard at work. Nothing had stopped since she had left earlier. She went to her desk to get her bearings before she'd start on yet another case. She dropped herself into the moderately-comfortable office chair, the maroon fabric was somewhat scratchy but she ignored it. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples for a brief moment, before opening her eyes and looking up. Her partner was sitting on her desk, looking down on her. He had a sort of charming grin on. He always did. Roy Ross, he was a spitfire. Not only in a figurative sense, he literally was a spitfire. The agents at the checkpoint nicknamed him Dragon, because of his power. He prided himself in being a Charlie case. Golem had given him the ability to breathe fire, similar to a dragon, hence the nickname. She had been with him since they'd both first been assigned to E.A.S.

He was arrogant, he was charming, he was sweet talking, and he was young. Well, that wasn't necessarily true. He was just as old as she was, but he acted younger. He was more of a boy than anything. He enjoyed a chase, he enjoyed a fight, and he got bored doing evaluations. He was in the business more for the gun than for the progress they made. He was almost the polar opposite of Hima, and yet the two got along just fine. He was loud, she was quiet, he was . . . rather dumb, and she was extremely smart. His increased brain mass hadn't done much to help him. He was one of the dumbest people she'd ever met, and yet she still liked him. That was Roy Ross, Dragon, a likeable guy. And that smile of his was bar none.

"Well, look who decided to stop by to do some work. How was the sleep, princess?" He asked, slapping her desk with a manila folder before standing up and heading to his own desk. It was located only a few feet from hers. She didn't bother replying. She just opened the folder. It was fresh. A new case and it wasn't an evaluation either. That was why Roy had been so upbeat. She was in no mood to go chasing some offender down, but of course, it was part of her job description. She shut the folder. Roy would be talking about the file on the way anyways. He always did. Almost a year ago she'd stopped reading the files, just so that Roy entertained her a little more. She figured that's what a good friend would do. She closed the file and looked up at Roy. He was pointing towards the elevator. Maybe she should have read the file. This case seemed urgent, if it was already being followed through minutes after issuing. She nodded to Roy and headed towards the elevator.

"Double homicide. Both victims were beheaded." Roy explained to her as they entered the elevator. "Boss thinks this is the guy who has been doing it all across the country. The Executioner, that's the name he's been given. Pretty cool, huh?" There was that boyish tone again. He seemed enthralled with taking down a serial killer. Hima, to say the least, was less than enthusiastic about it. Killers and of the like weren't her favorite crowd to be around. She'd rather be talking to a bunch of 8 year olds, asking those questions all day. She'd rather be in her apartment reading a book. She'd rather put a bullet in her head. She began to think of all the things she dreaded most. She began to tune Roy out, but not on purpose.

_Garrison Quarters, _why had that popped into her head? She looked at Roy. He was talking still, but she couldn't really hear what he was saying. She was still wrapped up in her own thoughts. She just watched the movements of his, those jaws moving and twisting together words. His blond hair gelled and styled just to his liking. That plain black tie and white shirt, with black dress pants and dress shoes, just how he always dressed. She tried to focus on him; she tried to make out what he was saying.

"What did you say?" She asked.

"Garrison Quarters, that's where we're going, that's where the murders happened." He said, looking at her as if she was losing her mind. She probably was. That was something she would dread. The Garrison Quarters were terrible. She wouldn't be surprised if they found more than one serial killer there, or even a dozen more corpses. She always skipped out on the cases that traced back to there. She'd only ever been there once, and it was enough to keep her away. She'd seen a quadruple homicide, all stacked in a bathtub and doused with lye. Someone on a Flesh Rage, and it was horrible. She'd thrown up more times than she cared to remember. Roy was the one who had to sustain control, and bring down the suspect. She'd been too busy vomiting in the corner. The stench stained her nostrils for a week.

And now she was heading back there. She hadn't had time to refuse the case. It was too immediate to protest to her superiors. It figured, really, that she would have such bad luck. She always did. She drank her cappuccino quietly after being informed on where they were going. Roy knew she didn't like that place. Maybe he was getting some twisted boyish pleasure out of tormenting her with it. She scratched that out. He was immature, but he was also a good friend and an even better partner. He sympathized with her that day in the Garrison Quarters. He had held her when she had crumbled on the floor and wept. The suspect was lifeless only feet from them, and yet he had stalled calling in backup, just to help her compose herself. She had never thanked him for that.

She looked at him, and he looked back at her, smiling. She gave a quick flash of a smile back and then stepped out of the elevator. They were in the garage, which was located in the basement. They walked through the garage, passing by private vehicles until they reached the standard E.A.S. vehicles. The black Humvees all sat there, lifeless. They took one on the far end. She opened the passenger door and climbed in, seating herself in the comfortable leather seat. She always let Roy drive. He climbed in soon after, and turned the key in the ignition. He shifted it into drive and the vehicle lurched forward slowly. She looked out the window. He turned on the radio. She blocked it out. He noticed. He turned it down. Everything was clouded, and she couldn't tell why. Her thoughts were broken and puzzling. Usually when she saw a rock, she could name it, its chemical makeup and everything, but today she just saw a rock. She just saw a car. She just saw a building. It was unsettling to say the very least.

After ten minutes of driving they were entering the Garrison Quarters. The sky had grown dark and it was pouring rain. The barrage of rain drops cascaded down the metal exterior of the Humvee. It was loud enough to interrupt a person's thoughts. It certainly interrupted Hima's. As they made their way down one of the dark streets, people glared at them. Their gazes followed the black vehicle. She tried not to make contact with them. They scared her. The Alpha cases, they scared the life out of her. She was sympathetic, and she could tolerate most of them, but the more severe cases were horrendous. She almost gagged when she was confronted with a witness one time. She had to stifle the vomit climbing up her throat. Roy had handled the interrogation that time.

Before she knew it Roy was pulling over in front of a decrepit building. One of the buildings that survived the War, it seemed. An abandoned hotel turned into an apartment building, from what Roy knew. She didn't really care about the details this time. That was odd of her. She wasn't acting like herself, according to Roy, but she didn't care. She just wanted to be done with the case. She just wanted to leave the Garrison Quarters. She began fidgeting, until Roy opened the door for her. She had forgotten to get out of the vehicle she was so nervous. She finally stepped out, looking around her as if she were paranoid. Roy went into the back of the Humvee and pulled out two vests. He tossed one to her before fastening his own on. They both double checked their Velcro straps and made sure the vests were snug and right. Roy drew his pistol from his holster, and took a flashlight from the back of the Humvee. There was only one per vehicle, which seemed pretty stupid to Hima. Why would a two-person team have access to one flashlight? It wasn't her call, however, so she got over it and drew her own pistol.

They headed into the building. The lobby was dimly lit, probably due to the lack of electricity in the Garrison Quarters. There was very little access to power in this portion of the city. It was one of the factors that led to the poverty in this area. The clerk wasn't behind the counter. There seemed to be no one in the lobby at all. They took one quick look around before heading up the stairs. The elevator appeared to be out of order. They reached the first floor with no problems. The room they were sent to investigate was on the third floor. Hima took a deep breath before continuing up the stairs cautiously. When they had arrived at the third floor they took another pause. Then Roy pushed the door open, and entered the hallway, pistol first. She followed close behind. The room was in the middle of the hallway, not too far away, not too close.

When they had finally found the room, they approached slowly. Roy had his hand on the handle, preparing to turn it, when there was a loud noise that filled the air. Hima's skull felt like it was splitting and the ground beneath them shook slightly. Was the Soviet Air Force doing more bombing raids? She doubted it. She braced herself against the wall with one arm, and gripped her head with her one free hand. The noise was agonizing. When the tremors and the noise finally ceased, Roy looked at her. She knew what he was thinking. He'd go and investigate the source of the noise, and she'd stay watch outside the room. She didn't like that idea very much, but there was no other option. Roy moved towards the stairs at a brisk pace. He knew she wouldn't want to be left alone very long. Especially in that hallway, with the dim lights flickering on and off periodically, she wouldn't last long.

Roy made his way down into the lobby with no hindrance. The noise seemed to have originated from outside. He holstered his weapon and made his way out into the street. What he saw was nothing he had expected. The black, standard vehicle of the E.A.S. was on fire. The wheels were smashed and the body was crushed. This was no mere act of vandal; it was an act of sabotage. The inferno that had previously been the Humvee must have been started by some sort of explosive. Knowing this area of the city, Roy assumed a Molotov cocktail, or something similar to it. The inhabitants of the Garrison Quarter didn't exactly have rocket launchers or hand grenades lying around their shitty, rundown apartments. He was nearing the Humvee to get a closer look when some figures appeared from the buildings and alleys. Four or five Alpha cases were nearing Roy. They weren't the most upstanding looking citizens, so he assumed they were the vandals. One of them was carrying something in his hand. Roy couldn't see it very well in the fading light or the downpour. Was it a bat? He squinted his eyes, trying to get a better view of it when he was struck in the back with something hard.

He turned to see an Alpha case with a putter in her hand. She had assaulted an agent, and it was a criminal offense. He stood up, grabbing the putter and pushing her to the ground. The four Alpha cases that were approaching, one with the bat, were near. As they got closer, the bat appeared to have nails rammed into it for a more devastating blow. Roy drew his weapon, aiming it at the encroaching hostiles. He backed his way up to the building. Something went whirring through the air. His left side became increasingly hotter as he looked to see a large plot of asphalt raging in fire from another Molotov. He was distracted by that long enough to be caught off guard by the others. The bat came at an alarming rate, connecting with Roy's chest and sending him backward onto the ground. He scrambled to his feet, his breathing labored. He pulled the spiked bat from his vest, and threw it behind him, trying to keep the assaulters from reclaiming it. He raised his pistol, but hesitated on firing. If the other inhabitants of the area saw him gun one of their own down, they'd be moved to retaliate as well. A dozen hostiles was enough, he couldn't handle an entire block of people trying to kill him.

He backed up to the door, opening it and quickly entered the building before shutting it, using the flashlight to bar the door. He backed up, still watching the approaching hostiles. They began beating on the glass door when they couldn't open it. Roy thanked God for the invention of shatter proof glass. He slowly turned his back on them and rushed up to the third floor to check on Hima. He took the stairs two at a time. He was worried something might have happened to her. After all, they were investigating a serial killer.

Hima was fine, however, if not a little panicky. She seemed relieved that he had returned, although her face read curiosity about what had happened. He knew he'd have to tell her. He knew he'd have to break it to her that he didn't know how they were going to get out of the building. They still had a case to attend to, and with no way out of the Garrison Quarters, they could be trapped there for a very long time. He gripped Hima's shoulders, and looked her straight in the eyes. She seemed more worried now. She had a right to be.

"Princess, we're in trouble."


	3. Fright, Fight, and Flight

Hima turned her attention to Roy as he came rushing from the staircase into the hallway. His vest was punctured, she noticed as he neared her. She didn't have time to ask questions apparently, as Roy seized her by the shoulders. He looked her in the eyes. His forehead was slick with sweat, and his palms were warm and moist as well. His breathing was accelerated. He was panicking as much as she was. What was going on? She couldn't find the answers in his eyes. He licked his lips nervously, trying to focus.

"Princess, we're in trouble." He informed her. What did that mean? She couldn't piece it together, but it was something bad. Her head was going in circles. Her vision was beginning to blur. Roy shook her, trying to keep her attentive. It worked. She forced herself to focus. Roy looked around, not seeing any real options. Then his eyes lingered on the door next to them. The door to the room they were supposed to investigate. He looked at her again. She was scared, but she did her best to hide it from him. He was her partner though; she couldn't hide anything from him. He gave her a look, a reassuring one.

"Princess, you need to trust me right now. I'm going to get us out of this." He said, trying to calm her down. He put his hand on the handle, closing his eyes and saying a quick prayer in his head. He twisted it, but it didn't give. It was locked. "Fuck!" He cursed out loud, kicking the door as he did so. That was a wrong move. He had just alerted whoever was in there, if there was anyone in there. He was letting his emotions and the situation get the better of him, which was what he was trained to _not_ let happen. He took a couple steps back before charging the door, ramming it with his shoulder. It didn't give for the first few tries, but finally the hinges buckled and the door fell to the ground. He recovered and looked around inside. It was empty. He beckoned for Hima to join him inside.

The inside of the apartment was dark, almost pitch black. There were candles spaced far and in between, giving an eerie light to the place. It looked like something out of a cult handbook. There was a lot of commotion coming from behind them, but Roy refused to let Hima look back. He assumed the worst. The gang had gotten through the door and was scouring for them floor by floor. He tried remain calm himself. He tried to slow his breathing, but it was in vain. He opened the bathroom door as quietly as possible, easing it open with one hand. There was no one inside. He checked the closet. It was empty, even void of clothes and shoes. They made their way slowly and quietly into the main room. It was a small apartment. The bedroom, dining room, living room, and kitchen were all merged into one. The first thing both of the agents noticed was that there was no furniture.

The noises were approaching, increasing in volume as the seconds went by. Hima rubbed her fingers together, trying to channel her energy into something instead of letting it build up inside her. She felt like she could explode. She looked around nervously, but there was nothing insight. Roy pulled her closer to him. They had only two options: Jump out the window, or face the assailants. Either way, things didn't look good. With one strong arm around her, he gripped her tightly, aiming his pistol at the doorway. She aimed hers at the doorway as well. The screams and footsteps were encroaching faster and faster. Then they were there.

The Alpha cases emerged in the doorway. The lead one was toting his spiked bat once more. His face was hideous. He must have been in his late fifties, or maybe late forties. In the dark it was hard to tell. It appeared as if his face was wax and he lingered too long next to an open flame. His face was melted down the right side, his eye drooping lazily. His chin seemed to be made of foam, with boils and sores covering it. His hands were gnarled and misshapen. He approached slower now, confident in his intimidation over the two agents. Roy braced himself for a fight. Hima let out a brief yelp. The attackers were grimacing foes indeed.

Roy squeezed the trigger of his pistol, sending a bullet roaring towards its mark. The lead Alpha case took one in the shoulder, but shrugged it off. Roy let off two more rounds, which also found their marks, landing one in his groin and one in the gut. The Alpha case toppled over. The others charged forward, swinging whatever makeshift weapons they could muster. Both Hima and Roy fired on them. Four of the assailants dropped to the floor, but a few made it through. One swung a fire axe, presumably taken from the building they were currently in, at them. Roy pulled Hima to the side, absorbing the blow with his shoulder. The blade lodged itself into Roy's shoulder blade. Hima let out a shriek before riddling the attacker with bullets. She turned for another one but a dreadful _click_ emitted from her weapon. Roy turned around, the axe still in him, and opened his mouth, his jaws stretching until they could stretch no further. Fire roared from his gullet, spewing flames onto the closest man to his partner. The man screamed at the top of his lungs, his skin boiling from the extreme heat.

Hima pulled the axe from Roy's back, and swung it wildly but accurately, catching another Alpha case in the throat. She pried it loose to besiege another enemy with swings. There were three left. One hesitated, and then made for the door. She swung as hard as she could. The force of the swing caused the blade to angle badly, and she caught the man in the shin, cutting halfway through his bone. He howled with agony, and tried to crawl for the exit. His friends didn't bother to stick around. Roy reloaded his firearm and shot the injured man in the head. They may have been inhuman, but he was not. He had feelings, and he knew how to display mercy.

He felt woozy from the loss of blood in his shoulder, but it was nothing life threatening. He wouldn't bleed to death, which was a relief. That was according to Hima, and he trusted her with more than just his life. She examined the wound briefly before informing him that he would be alright, although he still needed medical attention. She could have fixed him up on the spot but she had no tools to use. So they exited the apartment, no leads on their case. Hima's mascara was running from the rain and from her own tears, but she ignored it. She had to be strong right now, and so she was trying her best to be just that. Roy seemed to be holding up alright, and he seemed to be keeping his composure just fine.

They made their way down the stairwell carefully, making sure they wouldn't be ambushed. The other two assailants seemed to have fled, never to return. If they did come back, there would be more with them, and it would surely be the end for both of the E.A.S. agents. Once they were in the lobby, they collected themselves. The case still needed to be finished, but they couldn't operate like this. They would scour the immediate area for leads, and if nothing showed up they would evacuate, and return later. And with heavier support, Hima noted in her head. She led the way, seeing as how Roy was injured. She opened the already smashed door, and walked out into the night, the rain ramming itself against her.

She wiped her black hair, slick with rain, out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. Roy followed closely behind, making sure he didn't fall behind, in case there were more attackers waiting for the opportune moment to make themselves known. She led Roy across the sidewalk, around one side of the building. They would look in the alley, and then the street behind the apartment complex, before deciding if they needed to evacuate. She kicked open the chain link gate and entered the alley. There was a staircase that led to a storage room or something on the right side of the alley. She informed Roy, who nodded, and aimed his pistol at the stairs, keeping his partner protected from a flank. She continued cautiously through the alley. She hated herself for doing it. She wanted to leave so badly. She just wanted to give up and go home. Safe in her apartment: that's what she wanted.

Neither of them could see very well. It was in the dark out now, and the rain hampered their vision even further. To add to the situation, their only flashlight was gone, lost in the chaos that had ensued behind them. They were stumbling around, half-blind, and one of them injured. They had to stay focused; they had to be alert for a second attack. It was like a baby crying; sooner or later it was going to happen. Not only were they blind, but Roy was leaving a trail of blood behind them. They could, if they had flashlights, tail them until they were most vulnerable. It was a dire situation, and they had no way of countering it. They were stranded in the Garrison Quarters until they dragged themselves out and most likely it would come to that: dragging themselves out of the Garrison Quarters, clinging onto the last shreds of life. Both of them had come to terms with that.

Well at least Roy had. Hima wasn't quite sure she was ready to die. She hadn't lived long enough to know if she was really living, though. Maybe she had always been dead. Maybe she had never come to life at all. She was just another drone, just another one of _them_. She would dread that. She would never forgive herself if she found herself replicating the same maneuvers in life that everyone else did. She was not one of them, nor would she ever be. She refused. She would fight it until she died. Or until she lived, she wasn't sure which one. She would refuse to be like any of them until she breathed her last breath. Yes, she concluded that was it. She would refuse until she no longer had air in her lungs.

And then it happened. There was a noise, although it was hard to determine what that noise was because of the pouring rain. Neither of the agents could see incredibly far down the alley, even with their enhanced vision. The noise got closer. It was the sound of footsteps in puddles. The Alpha cases were back, and they were going to finish what they started. Hima whimpered once, dropping Roy in a puddle before collapsing herself. The figure was near now. She prepared herself for the bludgeoning that was sure to come. Then a fire erupted in her heart. She raised her pistol and aimed it at the figure. Roy did the same, with his one good arm, and the two waited, almost drowning in the downpour, as their executioner emerged from the alley.

The figure loomed over them, staring down the barrels of the pistols. It was just watching them for a moment. Hima could make out some of the features. It was a man. The man just gazed at the two battered agents sitting in the puddles, clinging to life and besieged by desperation. Hima's mascara continued to run, black streams marring her dark skin. Her eyes glared defiance, however, and she was not about to back down. Her finger rested on the trigger. She was going to shoot the man soon. The man's silhouetted lips didn't stir. No smirk. No words. Just still and flat, that's all they were. She couldn't see his eyes, but she was sure he was studying his prey. And then he turned, and stalked off through the rain, down the alley from where Roy and she had come. He was gone, just like that. His figure slowly dissipated into the night, into the storm.

She stood, mustering all of her strength to aid Roy in standing. The two shuffled down the alley from the way the man had come. They had to get out of the Garrison Quarters, and they didn't have a vehicle. They didn't have a radio. They didn't have a phone. As they exited the alley headlights came piercing through the dark. Hima's eyes bulged with excitement. They were rescued. It was reinforcements. As the headlights neared, however, the source of the light was a taxi. Still, it stopped, waiting for the two. Hima opened the back door, pushing Roy inside, and then climbing in herself. There was a brief crack, before she realized that the Alpha cases had indeed returned, and with much larger numbers. The taxi's taillight exploded in a scene of red shards, the light dying out in the rain. The driver thrust all of his weight through his foot onto the pedal. The Alpha cases berated the cab with their vicious looking weapons. A sickle shattered the back window, the grimacing blade lashing around inside the taxi. Hima's sweater and blouse were cut by the blade, blood starting to leak from her forearm. A crowbar came slamming through the side window, connecting with Roy's face, breaking his nose and sending blood gushing down his chin. He opened fire, killing two. Hima aimed at the man flailing the sickle, hitting him in the shoulder, and sending him to the ground, only to recover and continuing his assault. The driver had finally navigated them out of the brutal menagerie of Alpha cases.

They drove through the dark streets. Hima didn't have to inform the driver to leave the Garrison Quarters. He was heading out anyways, after what had happened. She pitied him for having a route that took him through this hell. No one deserved to come here under any circumstances. She was glad to be leaving. She needed to be out of there. If she didn't get out soon she was sure she'd rot away. She'd simply flake off until she was nothing but a dust. _That's what hell does to people_, she supposed to herself. The rain seeped in through holes in the roof, and from the newly-created portals, bordered in jagged glass. It wasn't exactly a horse-drawn pumpkin, but it was enough of a miracle that she almost broke out in laughter. She'd been saved. They had been saved.

Roy was just as exhausted as she was, resting his damp head on her bloody shoulder. She herself was out of breath. Anybody would be. She wiped her hair that was plastered to her face away, tucking it away behind her ear. She blinked hard once, and took a deep breath. She was glad they had gotten away, but the case hadn't been finished. They had forfeited it at the cost of saving themselves. Her superiors would understand. At least she hoped they would. There were very few exceptions in the E.A.S. Failure was usually not one of them. Roy looked up at her, their eyes locking for a brief moment. He gave a tired, but heartfelt smile.

"We made it princess." He said. As he said it the taxi seemed to lift off the ground. All the weight bearing down on her seemed to lift and be gone. Everything seemed to float. Everything was quiet, and everything was still. Even the rain wasn't roaring in her ears right then. Then it all hit her. The blast, the shock, the roar of the explosion, and the floating feeling she was experiencing was the taxi tumbling through the air until it slid across the asphalt and skidded to a halt in the middle of the street. Right outside the Garrison Quarters, the taxi stopped, tilted on its side, the engine dead. Hima crawled out of the cab, Roy closely following. The driver stirred faintly, but the two agents couldn't help him at the moment. There was a payphone just across the street, and they needed to reach it.

Roy limped off to the booth, while Hima tried to get the driver out of the car. There were snickers and shouts from behind them. The Alpha cases were there. Hima couldn't comprehend what had happened. Perhaps a roadside bomb, or an improvised mine had caused the explosion. She had her hand gripped firmly around the driver's hand, and she was beginning to pull him out. The Alpha cases were quickly approaching, however, and she was forced to leave him for the safety of the phone booth. She shuffled to the payphone, banging on the door until Roy let her in. They both watched, from behind the shatter proof glass as the gang of Alpha cases bludgeoned the innocent taxi driver to death. Hima suppressed a sob, conjuring up all of her courage and clutching her firearm tightly. They were trapped now. Cornered in a phone booth, just waiting to perish, Roy finally got through on the phone, contacting for an evacuation.

The marauders were now banging on the booth. Some were licking the glass, taunting and intimidating the two agents. Roy had the door locked, but he wasn't sure how long it would hold out. Roy seemed somewhat relieved, if one could be in their situation, by the information he was receiving through the phone. Hima assumed that help was coming. She caught a few words from the voice blaring through the receiver. _Helicopter, ETA, Hold on_, that's all she could really catch in the moment. She was still panicking, trying to maintain composure and assess the situation. The barrage on the booth never ceased. Roy hung the phone up and held his pistol firmly. He looked at Hima.

"Princess, we need to run. Just a few yards, can you do that for me princess?" He asked her. She nodded. Her jaws were clamped shut, and adrenaline was pumping through her veins. Her head was pulsating, and her mind's cogs were working in overdrive. She was ready. Roy closed his eyes, and slowly unlocked the door. This was a decision that could haunt him the rest of his life. He was putting Hima in further danger, and he regretted that, but it was necessary. As soon as he unlocked it, the door opened and the already crowded phone booth became a scene of mass chaos and claustrophobia. A fire poker came over one of the Alpha cases shoulder, piercing Roy in the collar bone. From the puncture, Hima estimated it narrowly missed his lung, and she noted to thank God later. Roy thrust a foot forward, pushing the attackers backward. He and his partner opened fire, mowing down five of them. It opened up enough space for them to exit the booth, which they did.

They rushed out, and ran as fast as they could in their worn condition, down the street, leaving the demolished taxi cab and the now empty phone booth behind them. Through the storm they made their way, through the streets they traversed. They clung to each other for support, their bodies exhausted. A spotlight erupted on their location, and the deafening sounds of propellers drowned out the rain. As the helicopter landed, the door opened and a friendly looking man stepped out, beckoning for them to get inside the helicopter as fast as they could. They clambered inside and the door slid shut. Hima rested rest her head down on something solid, she wasn't sure what it was, and shut her eyes. Roy barely kept enough strength to stay alert on the journey back to the checkpoint.

"We made it Princess." They had really made it out alive.


End file.
